Mammoths

In this forest there are no dead trees
Trunks lean inward against the massive weight of the sky
As the marshaled legs of an ancient army of green mammoths
Woolly green pelt sprouting from every side
The moss grows without respect for death or life
Long after spring branches with new needles disappear
Green pillars stand as scaffolding of the forest shrine

-T. Weeks
(A response to “Out of May's Shows Selected”)